Hey everyone, welcome! RB sensation Summer Walker has reached her limit, feeling drained and exasperated by those who continually criticize her. Recently, she took to Instagram Live to candidly address a multitude of issues that have been weighing on her mind for months. Sadly, much of the spotlight on her has been negative.
Her troubles began when her boyfriend’s ex-partner publicly called her out on social media. For context, Summer is romantically involved with the producer London on the Track, and one of his former partners took issue with Summer spending time with her child and sharing moments on her Instagram story.
Beyond the drama with her boyfriend’s ex, Summer has faced harsh criticism on multiple fronts. She’s been subjected to disparaging remarks about her appearance, labeled as unkempt or homeless-looking. Additionally, she’s been body-shamed, a criticism she has defiantly addressed on social media before. In one instance, she fired back, asserting, “If anyone else wants to critique my appearance, claiming my hair looks untidy or that I appear dirty, they can take their Eurocentric standards and stick them where the sun don’t shine. Oh, upset? Just because I’m talking about my body, discussing my hard-earned money? Tough luck, deal with it.”
Summer Walker has faced criticism not just for her appearance, but also for her hygiene habits. A recent Instagram post where she mentioned using a washing bowl and expressing disdain for showers reignited accusations of being unclean, prompting her to defend herself and affirm her hygiene practices.
However, amidst these superficial controversies lies a deeper issue: the relentless scrutiny of her social anxiety. Despite her openness about this condition, she continues to face criticism, with some questioning the sincerity of her struggles and accusing her of unprofessionalism. Fans have criticized her performances and meet-and-greets, leading her to cancel tour dates due to the overwhelming pressure.
Most recently, backlash erupted when she arrived three hours late to her show in Toronto. Attendees were left waiting in the cold as doors remained closed, sparking outrage on social media. Criticisms ranged from her alleged partying to her abbreviated performance, underscoring the mounting frustrations of fans and detractors alike.
I’m feeling exhausted, alright? I’ve had it with all this nonsense. What in the world just happened? Can someone please clue me in? What did I do? Seriously, what have I done? You know what I do? I mind my own business. That’s a lesson some folks need to learn. I stick to my lane. The only drama I’ve ever been in is when someone’s ex came after me, unprovoked. I don’t go looking for trouble. So what’s the point of me engaging with you anyway? Anyway, let’s get to it. I’m being real here, alright? And I don’t fake anything for anyone. The only time I spoke out was when I was really struggling with bullying and social anxiety. I didn’t even address it in a video, just a post. And even then, people didn’t believe me. My own brother was like, “You’re making it up.” So when I finally come to terms with it, can’t I even accept an award in peace? You saw how nervous I was on stage. I was scared out of my mind. And then people have the nerve to say it was an act.
You know what? It’s all an act. Seriously. Sometimes it feels like life itself is playing a cruel joke on us. You open up, you share what’s really going on, and instead of support, you get ridiculed. Take Wendy P. Williams, for example. How can anyone mock her struggles? Is it social anxiety or just a lack of empathy? But hey, enough negativity from me. I’m just here to clarify things.
It’s mind-boggling how some folks can see someone in distress and still choose to make fun of them. It’s downright absurd. Now, before we dive into the Toronto situation, there’s one more thing I need to get off my chest. Brace yourselves—I’m about to spill some personal hygiene secrets. Yes, you heard it right. I take cleanliness seriously. Showering, scrubbing, brushing—I do it all. Sure, I might have mentioned my preference for baths, but let’s set the record straight: I shower daily. It’s like those folks who claim they hate the gym but still manage to break a sweat there. Or those who swear they dislike veggies but munch on them anyway. I may not enjoy showers as much as baths, but I still do it.
Let me explain why showers irk me a bit. See, I’m a bit OCD about cleanliness. Showering at home? No problem. But anywhere else, I’m hyper-aware of every little speck of dirt lurking in the corners. It’s like standing in a giant germ fest. So, forgive me if I’m not a fan. But hey, like I said, I’m still doing it.
I clean my behind. I ensure my entire body, including my face, underarms, and all the rest, is thoroughly washed. I brush my teeth diligently, taking care of every detail. And let’s address something—let go of that holier-than-thou act. Everyone, from you to your mom, grandma, sister, aunt, you name it, they’ve all got their quirks. No need to act all prim and proper like you don’t do the same. Now that’s off my chest, let’s delve into this Toronto situation. It’s got me all worked up. Love you all, but seriously, it’s repulsive. I know I said I wouldn’t speak up, but sometimes enough is enough. Let me rewind to the other day, because it was a real ordeal. You see, the thing is, you don’t see what goes on behind the scenes, yet you’re so quick to judge. I have schedules, responsibilities, and a constant audience. Every single day, I’m under scrutiny from thousands of people, trying to concentrate while dealing with countless distractions.
That unsettles me. I’m already dealing with that, and then I can’t even focus on what I need to focus on when I’m on stage, like the lyrics or interacting with the crowd, because there’s this constant issue with my equipment—like a malfunctioning dildo in my shop. It throws me off, causing me to mess up the song or start in the wrong place. Sometimes the sound might cut out, or something unexpected happens. Even if I’ve decided to use auto-tune on a song, being a mother on Mikey, I can’t just easily switch to playing guitar. Terminal seven, come on. I’ve had to dismiss my sound team twice. Twice. You guys don’t even understand the challenges I face dealing with this.
So, yesterday while returning to Toronto, I couldn’t locate my passport and birth certificate. They just vanished. I spent the entire day tearing the house apart before rushing from Vegas to Atlanta. I had to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to visit two different offices to obtain new documents before catching another flight to Toronto. By the time I arrived, all I could manage was to check into my hotel, quickly freshen up, and head to the venue. I barely had ten minutes to apply my makeup. You guys have no idea what happens behind the scenes. It’s just a constant whirlwind. I don’t even realize I’m running late. I simply go on stage when I’m instructed to.
And about hanging out with Drake, well, let me tell you the real story. I hope you stick around to hear it because I’m tired of the disrespect, assuming things about my associations.
I was clueless about the time; I thought I was early, but in reality, I knew nothing. They fetched me from my dressing room when it was time to hit the stage. I was lurking in the back, feeling awkward. Drake had mentioned he might come to my show. I straight up advised him against it, convinced of my own lack of talent. I explicitly said, “Don’t bother coming.” Yet, despite my reservations, he showed up. I felt incredibly grateful. Drake is such a kind-hearted person. Every encounter with him has been delightful, even though our conversations have been brief. But here’s the thing: we only chatted for two minutes. So, how on earth did I manage to lose four hours hanging out with Drake, when our interaction was so short? It makes no sense. I arrived with barely ten minutes to spare, rushed through my makeup, exchanged a few words with Drake, and then London hurried us along, suggesting it was time to greet others or head onstage. And that’s the bizarre sequence of events.
I didn’t realize that nobody was outside. The cold and the rain caught me off guard. I was completely unaware of the situation. I simply followed through with what I was supposed to do. If I had known that fans were waiting outside for hours, I would have addressed it. I apologize for any inconvenience caused, but there was nothing to explain because I was clueless about what was happening. To clarify, there was no running around the city with Drake; I have a committed partner who wouldn’t allow such interactions. The delay in getting on stage wasn’t intentional. Toronto’s strict border control held up my equipment, including my band gear and stage props, for a month without my knowledge. How could we perform without essential equipment? It was beyond my control. Additionally, they confiscated my belongings at the border, leaving me with nothing but dirty pajama pants. The situation has been frustrating, compounded by hurtful and disrespectful messages. People often overlook the challenges artists face behind the scenes. It’s not just about gracefully descending onto the stage; it’s about overcoming countless obstacles, from makeup mishaps to wardrobe malfunctions. I hope this sheds light on the reality of my experiences, and I’m tired of shouldering unjust criticism.